Here Lies the Abyss
by FellowPanther
Summary: Hawke was not alone for long when she came to Skyhold. But what will that cost her beloved? DAI with reference to Origins and DAII. Hawke/Fenris pairing but with a new romance/twist coming up. Rated M just in case.
1. Chapter 1

"What in Andraste's name is this?! What have you done to him!" Hawke sat up, her covers splayed as she got up to confront this boy who crept into her chambers. She had been at Skyhold a little over a month now, still trying to secure a meeting with her warden contact. It was during this time that the strange blonde lad, who clearly needed heartier meals and a decent night's rest, mentioned something about _her_ needing Fenris. If she only knew then that the creature was serious, carrying the sleeping elf on his back as he made his way through the tower window.

"He's only asleep. He won't remember me," he gingerly slid Fenris from his back and onto the nearby sofa, "and neither will you. Forget!" and with a puff of smoke, all Hawke knew was that her love was asleep in front of her, and she was trying to determine whether to wake him.

His hair had grown since they left Kirkwall, he tied it back now when he was focused on something important. The crisp white strands clung to his cheeks, peaceful now as he dreamed. His dark skin, once smooth from living in the abandoned mansion, now took on its familiar roughness around his hands from months of living on the run from fleeing the chantry. There was nothing she didn't find intoxicating about him.

She decided to neither wake him or let him sleep; rather, she would simply nuzzle herself up to him and let him decide whether to rise. She chuckled at her unintended pun, making herself a mental note to repeat it to Varric later. Without his usual armor and gauntlets, it was easy to bury in close to him and rest her head against his bare arm, only a light tunic to separate their skin. He breathed deeply as he always did while he slept peacefully, which is what stirred him. A smile crossed his lips.

"Mmmm…" he moaned against her hair. Now unable to resist, she turned and brushed his olive cheeks with her lips, stopping right before his pointed ear.

"Sleep well, my love?"

His lips parted to a knowing smile, his eyes still closed. "If I didn't know any better, I would say I have stumbled into quite a nice dream," he feathered his hands along her sides, resting on the curve of her hip, "for this is far too lovely to be possible."

She giggled back before her lips continued their journey up to the point of his ear and nibbling the tip. Remembering how this drove him wild, she knew this would be the trick. Being away from her love for so long, she wasn't about to waste any time. And neither was he.

He opened his eyes and rolled himself atop her, straddling her sides with his lean legs. His eyes were wide and wild, his sleep still clouding his reasoning as to how he could've got there with her. But questions could come later as now was the time to satiate their longing for one another, which would undoubtedly last until the day's first light.

"You are never to leave me again, human," he gasped between his panting breaths, recovering from the fervor of their reunion. She lay upon his bare chest, feeling his restless heartbeat keeping pace with her own. Her lips parted to a smile as she propped herself up on her elbow to see him.

"And risk your wrath? I wouldn't dream of it," she pressed her brow against his, tickling his nose with gentle kisses. He let out a contented sigh.

"Then I am a very happy man,"

"Don't say that just yet. Recall I still have business to attend to while I am here, business I am sure you will find rather dull in short order," he moaned at this, turning over and sliding the pillow over his face to keep out the first traces of daylight.

"Why must you jump to the aid of everyone who summons you? Come back with me now and we can find somewhere safe to wait out this rift nonsense,"

"You know me better than that. These fools would waste this golden opportunity to save the world in _style_ if not for me," she pried the pillow off his face, "And besides, you know how Varric gets without me," he chuckled at this and tried to picture the dwarf alone without his favorite human. Somehow, he simply couldn't do it.

"I should be asking how I got here, but to be honest I truly," he peppered her cheek with a kiss to emphasize each word, "Utterly...do not care," he brought his lips to the softness of her neck, breathing in her sweet scent. His own smell lingered on her, which pleased him. "The Maker must have known that the hawk needs her wolf."

"Hmm, perhaps you're right," she leaned into his kiss, now slipping lower to her shoulder, nipping at her pale skin, "Though as I recall I was doing just fine before you slinked into my chamber."

"Blasphemy," he hissed against her, pulling her onto him and wrapping her into an embrace that they would not leave from until much too late into the day to be considered decent.

The creature spirit-boy was right: Hawke did need Fenris, and as she laid in his arms she knew that he needed her too. She wished with all her heart that her promise to never leave him would ring true, but something in her nagged at her heart, telling her that the words would prove empty.


	2. Chapter 2

No one really questioned Fenris's abrupt appearance, as the members of Skyhold grew accustomed to the foolishness that Cole would bring through the doors of the mountainous sanctuary. The first war summit Hawke insisted that he join her, which he declined in favor of somewhere less important. As much as he detested the the idea of leaving Hawke's side after so long apart, he knew he had no business discussing the strategies of this Inquisition.

He instead decided to find the familiar company of a certain dwarf with a penchant for storytelling, and he knew just where to find him.

The sounds of the tavern could be heard across the training grounds, Varric sitting squarely in the middle of the ruckus. An elf with oddly cropped blonde hair sat to his right, a tall pint in her delicate hand. Beside her was a large dark haired and bearded man with a booming laughter that could be heard through his own pint. Fenris's eyes rested on the bulk of a large grey figure, two large horns with one eye covered with a leather patch. A qunari. His hand twitched towards his sword strapped comfortably to his back before he realized it was not there: Hawke had insisted that he leave it in her chambers, as he would not need it in the safety of Skyhold.

 _Besides,_ she quipped, _the damn thing puts people on edge. You need to make some friends for once._

He tried not to smile as he remembered her teasing. That woman, however much he remembered he needed her, would truly be his undoing.

He made his way closer to Varric's table, finally catching the dwarf's gaze.

"And here he is in the flesh! I was just telling them how the kid plucked you out of Maker knows where to deliver you safely to our illustrious mistress Hawke. Any comments on your tale, Master Fenris?" he took a deep bow of his head, nearly spilling his pint, obviously deep into drink before Fenris arrived. It was good to see some things never changed.

"Only that I remember none of it, and that I find myself in the strangest company of my life," he crossed his arms unconsciously.

"Perish the thought! I'm wounded that you would believe that the wild adventures we shared would be no match for a spirit...boy...kid...thing!"

"I was cradled on his back and have no memory of it. I find that competes well with pirate whores of bygone days," Fenris couldn't help but smirk as Varric sputtered on the last chug of ale in his pint.

"Yeeeeah. The kid does that," the qunari slammed his drink down harder than he meant to, now looking at Fenris, "You'll get used to it soon though." He was shocked to see the beast had such manners, let alone a decent sense of humanity. The "bull" as he called himself, barely even sounded like a true qunari, with his Fereldan accent and actual sentences not comprising of grunts, which made Fenris curious as to how he got there. And why. Varric caught the questioning squint in Fenris' gaze.

"Ah. Perhaps some introductions are in order?" Varric cleared his throat, pointing to each character around the table and pairing them with their name and a quick bit of information. A warden, city elf, and Ben Hassrath. How on Thedas Hawke managed to find this lot was beyond him. A tall dark haired man walked up behind him, sitting down next to the Bull. He smelled of something that prickled the ends of Fenris's hair, almost setting his marks aglow. He couldn't quite decide why before he spoke.

"Now don't forget the pretty one. My name is Dorian Pavus of Minrathus. I'm sure we will have great fun charming the knickers off one another, though in the meantime, I require a stout drink," the man got up just as quickly as he sat down, lingering that burning scent in the air as he passed. That was it. He was another _bloody magister_. Fenris now realized why Hawke wanted to relieve him of his sword, as it took every ounce of his willpower not to run up to their chambers to grab it, picturing the bulk of it rammed in the gut of this filth. He didn't realize his marks were ablaze until Varric grabbed his arm.

"Maybe we could all use a stout drink, eh?" the glow of his skin subsided, knowing that now was not the time to paint the walls with blood. Perhaps later, after slipping blissfully into drunkenness he could rip the mustache from the bastard's grin and shove it up his-

Varric instead shoved a pint into his hands, offering him a cheers and sitting him down across the table.

* * *

Fenris was surprised at how easily he slipped into the familiar banter and chatter that always surrounded his old friend. In truth, he actually did miss the dwarf after he was whisked away by the seeker, and he actually was concerned with his welfare when he had been gone for so long. But running from the chantry was time consuming, particularly when the stakes were so high.

Never before had he been on the run with someone else. Running, hiding, these were things he was used to and could easily do again. But to have someone with him, someone who if he lost would crush him, changed everything. Where before he would take risks and deal with the consequences as they came, now he found himself worrying himself sick, constantly watching over his shoulder for those who might do Hawke harm. He never once divulged this weakness to her, never told her of his nightmares of watching a horde of templars end her life as he stood helpless and broken.

It was ironic, then, that the very place he was terrified of her coming to now became the very place he felt safest.

He could not pinpoint the exact reason why, but there was something about this castle in the mountains, something in the very bricks that formed it, that left him at ease. He found himself able to relax in the company of his old friend, even with these strangers now surrounding him.

Eventually the ale consumed became too much, and the old dwarf passed out, his snores muffled by the wood table. Fenris chuckled to himself. With the other companions now gone, it was now on him to return Varric to a more suitable resting place.

As he slid his hands beneath the dwarf's arms, ready to sling him across his shoulders, a soft touch slowed his movement.

"I'm sorry if I scared you. I want to help people. I hope I helped Hawke...she dreamed of you every night, so loud it hurt my sleep," a pale lad shrouded in an oversized hat peered through him with crystal eyes.

"You brought me back to Hawke. Whatever you are-however you got me here, I am grateful. There is no offense," the boy smiled as a reply, and offered his hand to help carry the remarkable weight of Varric.

"Varric missed you too. _I can't bring her here, not to the seeker, not away from Fenris. That elf will kill us if anything happens to her,_ " Fenris stared in disbelief, but was too tired from his long day and drink to ask whatever the lad had actually meant.

"The dwarf was right. I would kill anyone who hurt her," Fenris did not mean for it to sound like a threat, but the lad did not seem to have been bothered by it, so they continued on carrying their friend. They finally found a suitable bed and dragged him into it. Fenris did not linger, and instead made his way up to the battlements that connected the tavern to the high room in which Hawke had claimed as her own.

The air outside was crisp, wind biting his cheeks from the snow below. He guessed that no matter the season, there would always be snow in these mountains. Before the thought could chill him further, a dark figure resting upon the battlements caught his attention.

An elf sat cross legged on the thick stone wall, the height and precariousness of her seat not seeming to give her any trouble. She was gazing up at the dark cold sky, eyes alight from the stars that shone.

As he stepped closer, curiousity getting the better of him, she cocked her head to the side.

"You must be lady Hawke's guest. It is an honor to finally put a face with a name," she never took her eyes from the sky, which he found odd. He quirked one of his brows unintentionally, stepping closer as he replied.

"The honor could be shared if I had your name as well,"

"Ah. Forgive my mood. I seem to be in another world tonight. Call me Lavellan," she finally peeled her gaze from the stars to face Fenris, a grin now spreading over her cheeks, "But please for Andraste's shiny arse don't call me Inquisitor," such a response, and such a person, were totally unexpected. He could not help but return the grin, however foolish. How much ale had he consumed?

"Then I have you to blame for taking lady Hawke away from me in the first place,"

"There are many things that you can blame me for," her eyes drifted down, now over the battlements to the mountains below, "But I believe it was our mutual friend that wrote her and invited her up to my humble homestead."

A light flickered in the room near them, a candle lit within. Fenris glanced at the familiar shadow that the light created and his body unvoluntarily leaned toward it.

"Go on then, don't waste your night here in the cold when you have a warm woman to get to," the Inquisitor smiled warmly, though there was no mistaking a sadness that haunted her eyes. Fenris smiled awkwardly in reply, not knowing what words would be appropriate as a farewell given the strange conversation they shared. If it could be called that.

He strode off to the room that glowed with the promise of his beloved.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

 **CRESTWOOD**

* * *

"I am to go to Crestwood to set up a meeting for the warden and our dear Inquisitor," Hawke was tired from spending the better half of the day in the dusty war room with far dustier people. She greeted Fenris, but he insisted that he be filled in on the plans discussed. She was slunk low into the soft sofa, legs ungracefully sprawled out and only covered in the leggings she typically wore for sleep. Fenris had not yet sat down, but leaned against the bed, arms crossed. Her grim little wolf.

"Crestwood? I don't know of this place. Though given what we know of our warden friend's current situation, he will most likely not linger too far into the open,"

"Not at all. That is why we will meet in the cheeriest of places: a smuggler's den. Perhaps there might even be some stray smugglers still inside for a quick slaughter. Keeping to our typical Tuesday schedule, I suppose," she grinned at her own joke, but pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to fight away some fatigue.

"Why must it always be caves?"

"I'm beginning to wonder that myself really. Though I suppose it helps that I happen to have my own walking night light lest I get scared," her brow rose mischievously, the corner of her lip curling to a half grin. Fenris chuckled, closing the space between them.

"Only for women with sassy mouths, I assure you," he pinned his arms around her shoulders, hands gripping the back of the sofa. Hawke slowly moved her legs toward herself.

"My mouth is not sassy. It is, however, talented with a certain set of skills," and with that she moved her body in front of Fenris, going on to prove her words were true.

* * *

Of course there were stray smugglers. And of course they thought it wise to attack a glowing elf with a massive cleaver.

What they couldn't account for was that the shadows proved deadly as a hooded figure slit through them all with flashes of daggers. With the floors now drenched in fresh blood, Fenris glowered at the hooded figure in ill-hid frustration.

"Must you kill all of them and leave me none?"

"My poor darling wolf. If only you were as swift as the shadow hawk," she teased as she loosened her face mask now that the cave was clear of danger.

"You really must stop calling yourself that," Hawke took his glumness in stride and nudged her companion with her elbow, letting him take the lead into the caverns ahead. She was accustomed to watching his back, as he was most comfortable with mowing down enemies from the front. The time apart had gotten Hawke out of her combat habits however, and she couldn't help herself to go all in and clear out the smugglers at once. She expected more chastising from her worrisome elf, but instead he trudged on through the cave pathways until they reached the main room.

"How nice of them to mark a hiding spot with a lovely skull. I should remember to thank them after this," she quipped as she stepped into the room, finding candles and lanterns to light around them. It was not as dark as most caves, but it would not do to meet the warden in darkness.

"The warden should be here soon. I'll go search for him outside the cave," Hawke nodded as Fenris made his way back through the paths, only to turn headfirst into the very man he meant to find.

"Most try to take me to dinner before burrowing their face in my bosom," the human smiled down at Fenris, which only made him glower back. This whole trip made him grumpy.

"Ah, Alistair. So good of you to make it. I imagine the horde of darkspawn are what kept you for so long," Hawke couldn't help her sarcasm, and Alistair couldn't help but return the favor.

"I thought I might destroy a chantry first. Maybe dissolve a city into chaos. It's really tiring work, you see."

Fenris rolled his eyes and made a disgusted noise. This was going to be a long day.

Though the time that passed between their initial encounter with Alistair was brief, the snarkiness of both the warden and Hawke made Fenris feel as if he had stumbled into a comical nightmare before the Inquisitor and her crew showed up. It should have been a welcome relief to see Varric again, but he only seemed to encourage Hawke with her silliness. Fenris was in no mood for this nonsense; the dampness of Crestwood made him feel like a dog with wet fur, and he awoke in a foul mood from a night of fitful sleep.

It was because of this mood, engrossed in his thoughts as he was, that he missed the beginning of the conversation between warden and Inquisitor.

Lavellan, not Inquisitor.

"You mean to tell me that Corypheous is screwing with the wardens now too?" Varric was ever insightful, and it was fortunate that he could summarize a bit of what was already said.

"Hopefully not in the literal sense. I suppose that would not be something I would want to imagine. But he is using the taint to make us desperate. It didn't win me any favors by being on the opposing side of the view that we should take the fight to the old gods. Bit of a pariah now, really," though his words and tone were lighthearted, the warden's posture and furrowed brow gave away the depth of his tiredness. There was indeed great weight on his shoulders.

"Well everyone else is having a go at demons, why shouldn't the wardens join in on the fun?" Hawke, ever helpful in her snark.

"The question now is what we can do to stop this. Demons and Corypheous are two topics we have fairly thorough experience with," Lavellan had her arms crossed, all business, "But I don't feel comfortable losing innocent wardens simply trying to save themselves, albeit by foolish means. Alistair, if you would join us back in Skyhold, I would very much like to use your expertise in this matter."

"A castle instead of this cave? You give me a tough choice, lady Inquisitor," he chuckled as he moved forward to shake her hand, "But there is no sense in waiting on my love to find a cure for the taint while I sit around on my thumbs. I will lend any service I can to your cause. And if we can save the wardens from themselves, that wouldn't be too bad either," and with that, the planning stage of their quest was almost complete.

It was almost time for action.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

 **BACK AT SKYHOLD**

* * *

Weren't they just in a monsoon? How on Thedas did they now find themselves in search of a poisonous desert?

Their return to Skyhold was short lived, as the urgency in their new cause drove them all to swift action. Too many innocent wardens were at stake to delay, so it was with haste that advisors called Hawke back to the war room, now in the company of Alistair, to discuss their next steps.

Not wanting to waste the time it would take Hawke to relay the plan back to him, Fenris decided to accompany her to the war room this time.

Scouts had confirmed their suspicions of large numbers of wardens on the move, and they had narrowed it down to a single region. The Western Approach was not a charming place, and so it only raised further questions as to what they would find, or where to even begin their hunt. Alistair volunteered to scout the area further, noting that the desert was indeed tainted with blight and therefore was the more sensible choice.

"Alistair, the reports said that their were droves of wardens moving into this area. Were you not just trying to avoid these same people in Crestwood?" Cullen's practicality nearly glittered off of him like the shine of his armor, a trait Fenris admittedly admired in the fair haired human.

"Well, yes. But I can be...sneaky," Alistair faltered slightly.

"Perhaps you could still go," Leliana piped in for her old comrade, lifting his spirits before she continued, "Though it does not make sense for you to go alone. We already have scouts in that area; you could accompany them while our forces move in,"

"Yes. We can establish a foothold for the Inquisitor to join you should you find our quarry," the commander's hands rested on his sword pommel as he strategised.

"Even with scouts, how 'sneaky' do you think this oaf really is? I should go too, should actual stealth be necessary in stalking these wardens. I'm curious to see what idiocy they've gotten themselves into these days," Hawke had her hip leaned against the large table, her arms crossed. Fenris felt his chest suddenly constrict.

"This is a blighted desert, Hawke. It would be too risky for you to go there blindly," he couldn't help the anger heat up his blood. The thought of her throwing herself needlessly into harm's way again was maddening.

"Nonsense. It would do me some good to finally get some sunshine, what with all those blasted caves we find ourselves in," she tried to brush his concern off lightly, tried to ease his quick temper with soft words.

"Do not make light a dangerous situation. This is serious, and you should treat it as such," Fenris felt his arms shift to his side, tensing.

"How is this any more dangerous than any other mission we have embarked on? How am I any less competent in seeing this through than any other?" it was her turn to be angry now as she shifted from the table to fully face him.

The others in the room shifted uncomfortably, trying not to look at the arguing couple before them. It was Lavellan who finally broke the awkward silence.

"Both Alistair and Hawke are too valuable to send blindly into a trap. We will send out our scouts first to secure the area. When we get word that we at least have some measure of a foothold, Alistair and Hawke will both search out these wardens further. It only makes sense that you watch each other's backs," and just like that, the matter was settled. Those assembled quietly found one excuse or another to retreat from the large windowed room, leaving only Fenris and Hawke too stubborn to move.

"Well...I suppose that's settled then. No more fuss," and as she said it, Hawke strode out of the room and straight to her quarters.

They did little speaking, even when word came that it was time to depart. Hawke still upset that Fenris thought her too weak to handle herself, Fenris still angry that she was risking her safety for other people's messes again.

It was a surprise, then, to find Fenris on horseback with supplies as Hawke and Alistair turned to the gates for their departure.

He intended to accompany them.

"Good to see you made it! We could use another full sized sword on this journey," the human man smiled at him, not a hint of worry on his features.

"My daggers are far more deadly than your clumbering hunk of metal, I assure you," Hawke's mood had not lightened even at the sight of her lover.

"I guess we can find out soon enough. Though I'd rather hope we could replace all of our weapons with more sensible items: a cheese wheel as a shield, for example. Maybe a banana nailed to a stick for an axe," he began riding off ahead of them, musing to himself the different forms common weapons could take, not even trying to hide that he was giving the two behind him some privacy.

"Is this your means of apology, then?" her eyes flashed ahead of her, not quite ready to meet Fenris' gaze. He bit down his own defensive retort. He was not here and willing to go with her just to continue their argument.

"If I cannot make you see reason to stay, then I shall at least accompany you into this madness," he found his brow was furrowed, and made to loosen it as he added, eyes downcast, "I cannot bear the thought of you unsafe without me with you. Please, Hawke, do not make me relive those weeks apart from you," there it was. So easily he caved before her.

"Fenris, I-" her voice caught in her throat as she looked at him, vulnerable, riding beside her, "I had no intention of causing you pain. Not then and certainly not now. I do not do this without caution or thought. I know where I am needed, and I must make right my legacy," she found herself now looking down on the path ahead, fiddling with the reins. Fenris chuckled, snapping her eyes now to him. A questioning look crossed her brows.

"Of course we must reconcile this on the road, rather than a few feet from a bed," she immediately caught on to his meaning, and chuckled along herself. They could be so stubborn sometimes.

It was all too soon that the air turned hot, first sticky and then arid, dry. They were in the Western Approach, and it was everything they were warned it would be.

* * *

"A moment, Inquisitor?" the soft coo of the spymaster's voice still gave Lavellan a start as she seemed to appear from absolutely nowhere. She nodded, meeting Leliana in the shadows of the hall before them. There were so many halls and paths in Skyhold.

"There is some information... that is of a more personal nature. I trust this can stay between us as necessary?" though she had hardened herself to a steely exterior, Leliana had exposed her former, more sensitive heart to Lavellan more than either one had expected. There was an unspoken respect, perhaps even the beginnings of a friendship, between the two of them.

"Of course Leliana, whatever you need,"

"This is not exactly about me as much as it is the secret of an old friend. You do know who Alistair has pledged himself to, don't you?"

Lavellan nodded, "The Hero of Fereldan. He was just swooning about her to me the other day before he departed,"

"Then you should know I traveled with them both for that fateful journey. It was during that time that the Hero and I became very dear friends," she looked thoughtfully over the Inquisitor, tasting her words carefully before she spoke them.

"I have been thinking about Corypheous' plot to assassinate the empress of Orlais. What if he did not stop there? Why not try to take over Fereldan as well?" Lavellan tried to follow her spymaster's train of thought.

"I suppose he would then target Queen Anora, getting practically the same chaotic result?"

"Unless there was a suitable heir to the throne, then yes, there would be chaos," she looked pointedly at the Inquisitor now.

"But Anora never had any children. There are no heirs," a slow panic was beginning to spread from her fingertips. Was there no end to the amount of madness that could surround her?

"She did not. But that does not mean Fereldan is without any rightful heirs," seeing that Lavellan was still confused, she continued, "The Hero once confided with me that the man she loved, the very Alistair that is now within our Inquisition, is the bastard son of the late King Maric," the spymaster let that information sink in.

"He is the only other remaining rightful ruler of Fereldan,"

"But you were all at the Landsmeet. The Hero had the voice to name him king. Why didn't she do this?"

"He did not wish to be king, not when the woman he loved, an elf, had no chance at staying by his side. She knew this, and respected his wishes and his secret," she stepped closer to Lavellan, "I only share this with you now because you must know the seriousness of keeping him alive. Not just as a favor for my dearest friend, but for the stability of Thedas,"

Nearly taken aback by the stoniness of the look she was receiving, Lavellan thought her words over before responding. "Thank you for sharing this with me Leliana. Your trust will not go unwarranted,"

"I never doubted it would,"


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

 **THE HISSING WASTES, Pt. 1**

* * *

Fenris could not believe his luck. It seemed that no matter where he found himself, there never seemed to be an end to the supply of _magisters_ he would encounter.

This one was no different from the others.

Crazy. Power hungry. Resorting to the vileness of blood magic to pervert everything he touched, this Erimond was truly living up to (if it could be called that) the drudgery of his title.

" _Fasta vass,_ "

"I love it when you talk dirty," Hawke winked at him, but it did nothing to slow his hand from reaching towards his sword. This magister just confirmed their suspicions: wardens were being manipulated by Corypheous, by binding them to demons with blood magic. Nothing about this situation gave Fenris any reason _not_ to kill this man.

"The blight is but a tool for the will of my master!"

" _Somebody's certainly a tool,_ " Varric mumbled, his eyes flashing with a mixture of hatred and disbelief.

"To be honest, I am rather getting tired of hearing your voice," Lavellan turned from Erimond to her companions, now unsheathing swords, crossbows and daggers, "Shall we?"

And with that, the wardens and demons turned to meet their fight just as Fenris saw the magister turn to run.

 _He will not leave alive._

Just as quickly as he had seen him, Fenris turned on his heel to the direction of the magister's escape to follow him. Fenris had the advantage of speed, as Erimond's armor only slowed him down in the scorching sands. As the terrified man looked over his shoulder, he saw a flash of blue light over his pursuers skin as he all too soon advanced towards him. He was upon him moments later, fists glowing and ready to pull out his heart.

A barrier caught his hand, bouncing it back painfully. This only enraged him further, and he instead swung down his sword. He could hear the barrier falter, and a menacing smile turned on Fenris' lips. But it was too soon, for the mage instead sent out a geyser of flame, nearly engulfing Fenris before he could roll out of its path.

"Filthy blood mage!" was his battle cry as he moved in for another swing to his prey, only to be caught mid air by the hefty swing of a pride demon. Erimond conjured it just before Fenris' blade could find its mark, and the sudden appearance left little time for the elf to respond. The hit he took knocked the air out of his lungs, and as he stumbled to regain his footing, to pick up his blade, the demon left forth a whip of electrical energy, stinging his back, leaving him writhing in pain.

He let his rage consume him and numb the ache spreading through him. His skin glowed anew, his purpose clear. Sword in hand, he made a nimble, more calculated lunge at the demon's legs. The blade met its target, crippling the beast, allowing him to climb atop its back and plunge his steel through its skull.

His vision was nothing but white, his ears ringing. His body now numb, he found himself splayed across the sand, smoke rising from his metal armor, the smell of burnt hair and skin coming from somewhere near him.

 _I must find the magister._

He made to move his hands, to push himself up, but found that he could not.

" _FENRIS!"_

The ringing in his ears made it hard to know where the voice was coming from, how far until it would reach him.

" _Maker what happened?! Someone get something to heal him, dammit!"_ It was Hawke's voice, there was no mistake. But why was she screaming? What put her in such a panic? It only strengthened his desire to move, but his body did not respond, his thoughts becoming clouded.

" _Can you hear me? Please...please don't leave me,"_

There was something warm, warmer than the sun, moving towards his temples. Thoughts now unbearably clouded, his eyes too heavy to keep open, he had to say her name, had to tell her it was ok before it was too late.

" _Amatus,"_

And he was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

 **THE HISSING WASTES Pt. 2**

* * *

 _He was alone in a wasteland. Nothing but billowing dust before his eyes. He turned, walked one direction then another. Nothing._

 _Nothing but a soft shrillness, a faint sound from somewhere in the distance._

" _Please, you cannot take him, not my son!"_

 _Fenris followed the voice, his ears leading him instead of his sight. Where was he? Slowly his eyes could pierce through the dust and shadow, to see a figure slumped over. It was a wretched thing, barely recognizable as an elf, if not for the pointed ears. A cloaked figure stood before her, arms crossed and dominating the plane at which Fenris found himself. The scene made him uncomfortable at best._

" _Foolish girl, to think that this-that anything at all- belongs to you!" the voice from the cloaked figure boomed across the distance, a darkness to it._

" _This life was not meant for him, not my Leto…"_

" _SILENCE!"_

 _A crack, and the cloaked figure struck the woman so hard across the face that she fell over. Fenris stepped closer._

 _Blood dripped from her cracked lip, but it did not hide the markings on her face. Curved lines, branching out like the tips of trees. Why did it look so familiar…?_

 _The cloaked figure turned to Fenris. Slowly it oozed closer, the cloak becoming a dark mist surrounding the plane. A voice like crackling fire boomed._

" _And this little elf, will happen to you. For you are still_ _ **nothing**_ _. You have_ _ **nothing**_ _. Everything you hold dear will be ripped away, for it was never yours,"_

 _A flash before his eyes showed that the woman crouched over morphed into the shape of Hawke, beaten and bloody and unable to stand._

"Maker how is he screaming like this if he is unconscious?" Hawke was in a panic, trying to keep his thrashing head still. It was the only part of his body able to move.

"His body is trying to make sense of the trauma. He was badly injured. Try to keep his head still, I think I can at least ease some of his suffering,"

" _No no no no…" he rushed towards her body, but was suddenly engulfed in the darkness of the cloak. A sinister laugh surrounded him, penetrating his very bones. He struggled to be free of the shadow holding him, thrashing his head and limbs. But it only became tighter, seeping into his lungs like black tar._

"Why is he not breathing! _Help him, dammit!"_ Hawke was now shrieking, her panic unable to be hidden from her voice.

A green light illuminated the tent as Lavellan placed her hands on Fenris' temples.

 _A green light amid the darkness. He clung to it, clawed his way towards its brilliance until a silhouette formed. A woman. She spoke something, not in a tongue he recognized but still eased his frantic heart. The cloaked figure was retreating, now unable to keep its grasp on him._

 _He reached out his hand to the glowing woman._

* * *

He awoke to throbbing temples and a leaden weight on his body.

His eyes were slow to open, the same heaviness extending there as well. What had happened to Erimond? He swept his eyes across the room.

By the looks of it, he was in some type of bed, in some type of tent. The cool night breeze did not give any clue as to whether or not he was still in the Western Approach, as the nights there were just as cold as the days were hot. Again he made to move his body up, to prop himself for a better view, but his muscles refused to contract or give way.

This troubled Fenris greatly.

His efforts to shift in his bed caused an involuntary grunt to escape his clenched teeth, and something stirred next to him. The best he could do was slowly and agonizingly turn his head in the direction of the noise. Though this movement finally succeeded, it sent fire through his veins in the form of excruciating pain. _What was happening?_

"Good to see you're still with us," a soft cool voice came from the disturbance in the tent, but it was not the one he had hoped for.

"Don't worry: I just sent Hawke off to bed. She was wearing herself ragged keeping watch over you," the voice came closer and drew hands to his temples, "And I figured she wouldn't want to see this part again. I am truly sorry you had to wake for this, but I swear it is almost done,"

And with that, it was as if she was sucking poison from his very skin, seeping into every tender exposed nerve. His body went rigid in agony, a sucking in of air the only sound he could produce. Now his body was finally moving, but not of his own will as it twisted and turned in response to the searing heat of his pain. Just as he thought the pain would put him under, it ended.

"I suppose if I explained to you exactly what happened, it would be a bit overwhelming," the voice shifted to sit beside him now, "So suffice it to say that the pride demon you killed somehow reacted to the lyrium in your skin when it exploded, and I am currently trying to draw the remnants of it out,"

"It _exploded?"_

The voice chuckled soothingly, a balm to his pained ears, "Rather impressingly, yes. Fireworks and all. Unfortunate for you, however, considering you were on the creature's back,"

A cool hand rested on his arm.

"I had...strange dreams. More real, like I was actually a part of them," his voice shook at the memory.

"That might be because you were in the Fade," the voice shifted closer to him now, leaning over him close enough to see the markings on her face. Curved lines.

"Those markings! What are they, what do they mean?"

"My _Vallaslin_? All Dalish who go through a rite of passage receive them...why do you-"

"I saw them there, in my dream. On a woman...I thought I remembered her face, but it had those markings...but that can't be…" Fenris cut her off, not seeming to mind that he interrupted the leader of the Inquisition. None of this made any sense, and he had to understand. The woman in his dream, with the _Vallaslin,_ it had to have been his mother. But she was never Dalish. Was she? As thoughts raced through his tired mind, the Inquisitor shifted uncomfortably beside him.

"I must apologize for my...behavior on the battlements during our first encounter. I was not myself, rather, more like a drunken and hateful fool," she spoke the first thing that came to her, hoping to change the subject.

Fenris suspected that apologies did not often travel from the Inquisitor's lips. He took this for the rare occurrence that it was and took a moment to ease his racing thoughts. It was just Fade nonsense anyway, and he was safe now, here in the present waking world.

"From one drunken fool to another, your transgression was easily forgiven," he flittered his now mobile hand to his aching temple, "Particularly in light of your current assistance,"

"I am a mage. Who's to say I'm not actually poisoning you?" Lavellan's voice rang with a smile on her lips now more comfortable in his presence.

"No mage would be foolish enough to harm my lover while still so close to my tent,"

Hawke was standing in the opening of the tent then, dark circles under her eyes and worry creased across her brow. Her usual red slash across her nose still visible in the low light of the evening.

"I knew you wouldn't sleep long," Lavellan uncrossed her legs and made to leave the tent. Hawke stopped her with a firm hand to her shoulder.

"Thank you. For helping him,"

Lavellan placed her own hand on Hawke's, a show of reassurance.

"Of course," and with a fluttering of the tent's opening she was gone, leaving the lovers alone at last. Hawke was to his side in an instant.

"You were out for two days. I was worried you weren't going to wake up," her hands were grasping at any parts of him she could find, tears glistening her eyes.

"A simple nap, I assure you," he traced his now mobile hand around the sharp edges of her jaw, cupping it as he went. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes as a last attempt to stem the flow of tears.

"This was the first time I was ever afraid for your markings. Never would I have thought they could do you harm or I would have done everything in my power to safely remove them. I should have realized, should not have been so foolish to think-"

"Hush. These marks are who I am: the markings of a freed slave who overcame his master. These marks are what let me defeat the man who enslaved me, no silly girl could have convinced me to part with them," with his tease he rubbed his thumbs to her cheeks and she let a sigh escape her chapped lips.

"I might be silly, but at least it comes naturally and not from an abundance of wine," a smile finally tugged at her lips and that was all he needed. Any pain could be endured to see this sight before him, awkward as she was in these situations.

"That cellar would have gone to waste if not for me. I was simply doing my duty as new master of the mansion,"

"And when you moved in with me? What of my cellar that you drank dry?"

"You clearly do not know the diets of Tevinter elves,"

This earned him a soft laugh-filled kiss, the first of many of the night.

* * *

"Has she always been so protective over him?" Lavellan cracked her aching muscles in her neck, finally settling down around the fire.

"It's hard to describe what those two got going on. Hawke saved Fenris from his past and from himself, and Broody saved Hawke from the fallout of Kirkwall. It's like a balancing act of who is playing hero," the dwarf sat still, smoking a pipe in front of the fire. He rarely smoked anymore, he tried to cut the habit ages ago, but with all this shit happening….

"That seems like it would get exceptionally tiring," she spoke as if from experience, memories dancing across her face more visible than the shadows created by the flames.

"How would I know. They seem fine to me," he raised his brow at the Inquisitor, living aptly to her title. _Why was she so curious?_

"Look...I feel like I should tell someone this, but I don't know if it's my place,"

"Well your Inquisitorialness, I am just the dwarf to divulge your deepest secrets. It's Cullen, isn't it? You've got a thing for the curly headed human?" if there was one thing Varric loved, it was juicy gossip. _Especially_ the "don't tell anyone" kind. This piqued his interest and he leaned closer.

Lavellan sighed. "First of all, no, I do not have a... _thing_...with the commander of our army. Or ANY human for that matter!" she stammered, blushing at her accidental confession.

"So it isn't a _human_ our little hero is after...why Lavellan, I'm flattered, but you know it could never work between us, darling," Varric chuckled as Lavellan blanched, then flushed a horrible shade of scarlet in a matter of seconds.

"Or DWARVES-no, nevermind, this wasn't supposed to be about me! Look, if you won't-" she made to stand but Varric gently grabbed her arm. Oh how easy it was to fluster the little elf. He couldn't contain his chuckles.

"Fine, fine. I'll play nice. Now please, I beseech you of this delectable secret you must share with me," she sat down at his response, looking only fractionally relieved.

"I don't know how to explain this without sounding like I intruded...I want to start off by saying that I feel terrible about it-"

"Yes, yes, you're totally guiltless, just go on" the dwarf grew impatient. It was like holding a steak to a mabari and then throwing it away.

She sighed heavily. "When trying to remove the remnants of the demon's energy from Fenris...there was some sort of connection. As I drew it out of him, it was as if I was drawing it into myself,"

"The demon?"

"No. His memory. It was as if _he_ was in the fade, a spirit I could access. Images of his past, of his fears...I saw them all,"

"Look, am I the best person to be talking about this crazy shit to? I mean I don't know anything about the Fade, or...whatever this is,"

"That isn't what what I wanted to ask you about. Though, I'll admit that in all my dealings in the Fade, I have not experienced anything like it,"

"You know who you sound like right?" a vision of the stoic, know-it-all hermit of an elf in their company shot across Varric's mind, and it seemed that Lavellan knew who he was referencing.

"Which is exactly who I intend on discussing that part with. As I was saying, what I wanted to ask you about wasn't that I was seeing this, it was _what_ I was seeing,"

"Which was?"

"Hawke. Nothing but Hawke. It was if every single fear he had revolved around her. Every ounce of anxiety, every nightmare, was devoted to this woman,"

"And this concerns you?"

"Perhaps it shouldn't...it just seems...I don't know…"

"Look, love is stupid and horrible and wonderful and crazy all wrapped into one ridiculous ball. Why do you think I can make so many serials? It's _complicated._ Just because the little glow stick is sick with worry for Hawke, doesn't mean he loves her any less. Perhaps it means he just loves her more,"

"This worry was different. It made my hair stand on end, like the fear was from a memory, only it didn't happen yet,"

"Do you realize how little sense that makes?"

Lavellan sighed, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palms. She nodded her head.

"I know. And I know I'm probably making something out of nothing. It just left me not feeling...right. I wanted to talk to someone about it,"

"I'm flattered you thought of me," and truly, he meant it, "But haven't you been in love before? You know how this is,"

"The closest I have come to love was a one sided and completely foolish infatuation," a stony glaze swept over her, and Varric immediately regretted his last comment.

"Though," she added, a sly smile spreading across her lips, "Nothing a little drink couldn't take care of,"


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

 **ADAMANT FORTRESS**

* * *

Varric could not believe the shitstorm that was transpiring around him. First there were crazed wardens, that part he could wrap his head around. Then there were demons, that part...not so much. _Why did it have to be demons?_

The damned creatures were throwing Inquisition soldiers from the battlements they fought so hard to get to, meaning that it was up to his crew to "go take care of it". He volunteered to go up with Hawke, Alistair and Cassandra, along with Dorian for some magical reinforcement. The other the group- the Inquisitor, Iron Bull, Blackwall, and Solas- were to clear out the main grounds and meet them up top. Vivienne led a small battalion of sympathetic mages, not letting her commanding skills go to waste, and Sera was in charge of a small team with the sole purpose of "screwing shit up". Her idea.

Finally reaching the top of the winding stone stairs, Varric's crew was greeted with the site of Inquisition soldiers trying to hold off a bushel of pride and despair demons.

"Well this looks fun," Hawke was the first to round the corner to the battle before them. They were still not noticed, as the fighting was so thick.

"Downright cheery, really. Ah, look. Some of our favorites come to greet us again. Why hello despair de-" Dorian's snark was cut short with a stray twinge of lightning frying a wisp of his mustache.

Thinking it had injured him, the others stared at him in shock. Varric looked from Alistair's concerned face to Hawke's only to see a blooming smirk spread across her cheeks. Dorian's signature facial hair was effectively scorched in half. The only word Varric could think of to describe Dorian's reaction was _mystified. Dumbfounded, perhaps? No, no, mystified._

The battle raged on, the shrieks of dying and injured soldiers could be heard all around them, but no one in the party could move from the horror they had just witnessed. Cassandra made a disgusted noise, not believing the frivolous claptrap that she had to witness, no doubt.

Finally the silence among them was ended with Hawke, "Oh come now Dorian, no need to _despair!"_

" _She replied sarcastically,"_ mumbled Varric, taking mental note so that he could add this nonsense in his next novel. No way anyone would believe this anyway, so he might as well turn a profit for it. If nothing else he could add it to his working memoire.

" _Vishante kaffas!_ _ **TAKE THIS YOU FILTH!**_ " and with a wrath never seen before in anything but rage personified in demon form, an explosion of fire erupted around him, as he barrelled at the nearby frey. Varric looked to Alistair, then to Hawke. They both looked at eachother, unbelieving at what had just transpired.

"Am I to believe this? A battle frenzy over something so insignificant is absolutely ridiculous, surely…" Cassandra had a hard time unhinging her jaw in complete shock. Maybe even disgust.

None of them answered her. Eventually, the need to not be shown up by a mage overtook all four of them, and they ran after him, until they were toe to toe with the demon mob.

Varric studied the field. A few caltrops there, and the pride demon had a harder time flanking Alistair, who in turn slayed the beast with his latent Templar powers. A pinning shot there, and the demon with the springy long legs (he could never keep track of their names, they all died anyway) took the heat off Hawke, who was trying to backstab a despair demon before Dorian blew it back to oblivion. She then could focus her attention to throwing her body into a swinging barrage of daggers, taking out a nearby rage demon that Cassandra had taunted and weakened. She gracefully sprang out of the way before it exploded in flame, as the Seeker protected herself with her large shield.

"We really do make quite the team. We should do this more often!" Hawke panted out her words between deep breaths, wiping the Fade-touched slime from her daggers.

"Yes, let's make it our own little dinner party. And the others are _not_ invited without the proper mustache," Alistair couldn't help but chime in, even if it did earn him a look of loathing from Dorian. Cassandra approached them after a satisfying swipe of her sword left a clean swath on her filthy shield. There were still smoldering pieces of flesh remaining on the metal grooves, but no matter.

Joke as they might, a battle that nearly wiped out the small band of soldiers was nearly over before it began thanks to the five of them. The soldiers were safe for now, but a blast of mortar fire nearby told Varric that this was just the beginning. The group pressed on, towards the strange glow from the middle of the fortress. Whatever freaky shit they were getting into now, it was too late to turn back.

Bianca, at least, was excited.

* * *

The fighting was brutal on the other end of the fortress. Instead of demons, the Inquisitor and her band were fighting wardens. Try as she and Blackwall might to reason with them, most attacked before words could even be uttered. It was after an hour of senseless fighting that they finally ran into some glimmer of hope.

A group of wardens were clustered closely together, something obviously had their full attention. When the Inquisitor's group rounded the stairs to see them, none of the wardens even looked in their direction.

"Well this is a nice change," Blackwall went to sheath his sword, but Bull put his hand on his arm, stopping him.

"We want to look peaceful, not like idiots. Keep your weapon out in case they're crazy too," Bull whispered as his hand dropped to his battleaxe and clenched it tighter, letting Lavellan step forward first.

"Wardens?" she approached them slowly, like coming upon a wounded animal. Anything was possible. Her shoulders were tense, and she gripped her staff like it was her lifeline. The wardens they faced previously were well trained, and hard to handle even from range.

The group looked up, and dispersed to show a familiar shape.

"I wanted to help. _Trapped, orders too heavy to carry but cannot leave_ ," Cole's innocent smile shone through even the darkness of the nighttime battle. The senior warden in the group stepped forward.

"Cole told us of your intentions, and what you had seen in the Hissing Wastes. If what you all say is true, then we cannot stand by this. We will help you...help us save ourselves," the warden extended a gloved hand, which Lavellan gladly took and shook. She looked around to see that the other wardens there agreed with their leader, but was shocked to notice how young they were. These must have been new recruits, none of them over 20. Young, but most likely too seasoned by battle already, if the bags under their eyes were any indication.

Blackwall stepped forward. "There are still wardens among us in this fortress who would fight us all to continue out their plan. Are you willing to fight-to kill- your brothers and sisters? Just like that?" The wardens looked at him, then back to themselves, shaking their heads and murmuring to each other. They had clearly not thought of that. This must have been a young contingent indeed.

"Perhaps a compromise, then?" Solas piped up from the shadows, casting a meaningful look at Cole, a knowing smile crossing over his lips.

"I have found others, wardens who do not want to die, but don't want to fight themselves. We can go together, someplace safe. Someplace with no fighting," the spirit truly was becoming more human, his words making more sense and causing less outright fear from those who heard him.

"We just cleared a path all the way up here. Surely no one will come back through. Cole, will you look after them until all this is over? We need them to survive this. We've lost far too many wardens as it is," Cole nodded at the Inquisitor's request, and in a puff of smoke the whole party before them was gone.

"Wardens shouldn't be fighting amongst themselves. Especially the young ones," Blackwall looked at the ground as he spoke, the burden of the situation weighing heavy on him.

Lavellan couldn't blame him for speaking so harshly to the wardens, not if it spared them fighting their own people. Wardens were meant to serve, to sacrifice and protect, not be used as tools. They held a sacred duty that kept all of Thedas from falling into chaos, but old god induced madness had brought them to the brink of total implosion. What a sad, ironic turn of events.

"There are many things going on that should not be happening, but they happen all the same. And here we are, dealing with it anyway. It's not up to us to decide what should or should not happen. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us," Lavellan marched onward, her companions still struck with the heaviness of her words.

"Close your mouth the next time you stare at Boss," Bull clapped Solas on the shoulder as he passed him to catch up with their leader.

* * *

"What the shit is this?!" A glowing mass, surrounded by warden mages, enveloped the upper courtyard of the fortress. Varric put another bolt into Bianca, as he couldn't think of anything better to say. Hawke placed her hand on his shoulder, at a rare loss of words herself. Just as the Inquisitor and her party were bounding up the steps to meet them, Clarel could be heard from above, Erimond at her side. Hawke clenched her blades at the sight of him, but soon her anger turned to revulsion as the Warden Commander slit the throat of a senior comrade. _More blood magic._

Erimond caught sight of the Inquisitor as she and her party entered the courtyard. He commanded the wardens encircling the glowing mass to be rid of them, as it would disturb their progress.

"Think of what you are doing! This man works for Corypheus and will say anything to gain your trust! He is _using_ you all!" the Inquisitor pleaded, which gave Clarel pause.

"Corypheus is dead...this cannot be true.." the Commander looked at Erimund in a new light, understanding beginning to spread through her tired eyes.

"And this madwoman will say anything to stop us. She is letting her preconceptions of blood magic cloud her judgement. Sacrifices must be made in order to stop the blights!" Erimund was shouting at noone in particular, his facade coming unglued.

"This is not the way to end the blights! Wardens, hear me! I was with the Commanding Warden of Fereldan, I was there when she slayed the Archdemon! You cannot give into this despair!" Alistair stepped forward, trying to reason with the wardens now encircling them, blades ready to defend the mage wardens preoccupied with the glowing mass. The mass was pulsating now, whatever the source of it was, it was ready to be free. The Inquisitor felt a sting in her palm, her anchor flaring, but only subtly.

Now Blackwall stepped forward, pleading. "Please wardens! We have spared all that we could on our way to you now. There is a group, waiting safely for the battle to be over. We do not wish to fight you. You don't need to die today," his words sent a stirring among the wardens, anxious looks flitting between them.

Clarel looked troubled from above them. She turned to Erimund, studying him over once more. "Perhaps we can investigate these charges…" The magister cut her short with a slap to her face, effectively silencing her.

"Or perhaps I could find a more reliable ally. Corypheus thought you might be here, and he wanted me to send you this, a present if you will!" he laughed maniacally as he pounded his staff to the stone floors, read sparks flying from the end as a distant rawr could be heard, coming closer to them.

"I would like to request a new 'present'. This one is bloody awful," Hawke looked to find the source of the sickening screech that came closer still. Finally, a shadowy mass manifested itself in the form of a dragon. An archdemon, the very same one under Coypheus' command.

"I'll take it!" Bull straightened up when he saw the beast, practically vibrating with excitement as it swooped in closer. His cackles could be heard even over the ear splittingly close shrieks of the dragon coming at them. It perched itself on a nearby battlement, sending rubble cascading all around them.

Clarel stepped back as she finally saw the magister for what he was. Rage overtook her as she glanced at the now lifeless body of her comrade, laid out on a sacrificial table. A blast of arcane energy hit Erimund straight in the back, knocking his staff from his hand. The dragon pierced the scene with its evil gaze.

"Clarel...wait...p-please…" Erimund's body was laid on the ground, Clarel charging another blast from her staff. She looked at the pitiful man before her, then back up to the dragon perched. Her decision was made: her bolt struck the dragon, which in turn left its perch and breathed blighted fire where she had just stood. Not wasting any time, Erimund ran after the dragon, and the Commander ran after him.

"Help the Inquisitor!" she shouted over her shoulder as she chased after the man that could have very well just ended the last of the wardens.

* * *

The group in the courtyard looked at one another in silence, eyes wide.

"What just happened here?" Alistair mumbled to himself as he scratched the back of his neck, cocking his head. This was truly a strange turn of events. Seeing another archdemon was the _last_ thing he ever wanted to do, including donning a dress and dancing the remigold. Again.

The wardens around them looked upon the group in confusion, clearly not certain what they were meant to do next. He felt the same expression on his face, and before he even meant to, or could stop himself, he was giving orders.

"Blackwall, stay with these wardens and hold down this section of the fort. If anything...weird should happen, you are to lead these men against it," he glanced around, only to see shocked faces staring back at him, "Err...I mean if that's ok, Inquisitor?"

This snapped the elf back to her senses, shaking her head and hastily agreeing, "Of course, Alistair. Solas, stay with them and monitor that...mass," a nod from the other elf and the rest of the group was off to chase after Clarel and Erimund, refusing to let him escape again.

They ran past demons, they ran past rubble as the fortress crumbled from the force of the dragon. Blighted fire stopped them in the middle of a corridor, but the dragon flew off to wreak more havoc elsewhere.

Finally, they made it to a crumbling bridge where Clarel and the magister were facing off. Clarel clearly had the advantage; her years of fighting were doing her credit as her barriers deflected bolts and flames alike, slowly closing in on her prey like a starved predator.

"You! You destroyed the Grey Wardens!" she bellowed as she sent a stone fist into Erimund's gut, knocking his staff from him as he slid back.

"You did that yourself, you stupid bitch! All it took as a little power dangled before you and you couldn't _wait_ to get your hands bloody!" as he stumbled to get back up, Clarel twirled another force at him, skidding him back across the bridge, now dangerously close to the edge. The shocks of it left his body writhing.

She stepped closer to him, ready to deliver the final blow as dark wings sank down from overhead. Before anyone could move, the dragon snapped Clarel at her waist within its jowls, flinging her across the bridge before it slowly crept closer to her, now ready to strike her down.

With her last bit of strength, she raised her staff.

"In death...sacrifice.."

Her blast shook the very stones they stood upon, the dragon lashing out in pain. Its enormous tail crashed through the stone bridge, and suddenly the shudders turned more ominous. The dragon fell, down and down it went. The group made to move off the bridge, just as it started to give way beneath them.

Varric, his legs shorter than the rest, did not make it to the safety of the fortress before the ledge gave out.

"Gotcha! Damn dwarf...you're...stockier, than you look," Hawke latched on him as he dangled above the abyss, the dragon creating quite a stir beneath them. But the bridge was too unstable, and suddenly collapsed altogether with all of them now spiraling to their deaths.

A rushing of air, and a sudden green flash. Then, nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

 **THE BLASTED FADE**

* * *

"What the _shit_ is this?!"

"You've got to be _shitting me!"_

"I think I just shit my smallclothes…"

"Well slap me twice and call me a nug! We're in the Fade!"

The grumbling party members turned to Hawke in unison, most of them curious to know how she knew where they were. She elaborated, "That hand thing is a _wonderful_ trick. Opening and closing rifts willy-nilly all the time. How do you control yourself? I'd be in and out of the Fade at least thrice before breakfast,"

The Inquisitor flexed her fingers questioningly. Before she could speak, though, Bull was already pacing in unrest.

"The Fade. The place with demons...Nobody said we would be fighting demons, Boss! Floating rocks, weird puddle _crap…._ Not even Dorian looks right here! What is wrong with your face?"

"Do NOT remind me!"

"Now that I look at it though, it is kind of cute…" Bull stepped closer to caress the missing facial hair with his giant gray hand, to which Dorian scoffed and reddened.

"I am not cute! I am devilishly handsome, rugged, perhaps, but not cute!"

As their bickering escalated, Lavellan took stock of their situation. Varric, Hawke, Allistair, Dorian, Bull and herself were here. Cassandra must have got off of the bridge in time. They were indeed in the Fade; the familiar sense of something being distinctly _off_ about the place hung in front of her just like the floating rocks. But something else was wrong.

"We're not just _in the Fade._ We're here...physically. These are our real bodies," That was it. Lavellan looked at her hand, flexed her fingers again for good measure. What she said was true.

"Wonderful! I can just picture trying to explain this to my love…'how were you when I was away darling, do anything interesting?' 'Oh not really, just walked into the Fade for a bit, almost fell atop a blighted dragon, you know, normal stuff!"" Alistair's hand was covering his face as he came to terms with the situation before him. This was the man who just instinctively issued orders in a time of crisis, Lavellan recounted to herself. It seemed like he was more worried for the repercussions of his tale to his beloved than the actual danger he was now in, which spoke more towards the sheer intimidation of the Hero of Fereldan than perhaps it did to Alistair's courage. Or lack thereof.

But the question remained: how were they to get out of here? More importantly, how were they going to _survive_ getting out of here? Would it be wise to use her mark from this side of the Fade? She looked around once more at the mess around her, and clenched her fist. Perhaps not, considering how many tears there were in the Veil already. She didn't want to add one more to the growing number and have who knows what come through it. Like what they were unleashing at the top of the fortress.

 _Like the top of the fortress!_ Of course!

"I think we should make our way to that glowing mess that we saw in the main hall of Adamant. We weren't far from it in the physical world, so it shouldn't be too far from us here,"

"Close or not, do we have any idea what direction that could be in? Tromping off the wrong way would inevitably make this much longer," Alistair came closer, ready to move on from this place. He was right, they were utterly turned around with no idea where the correct direction might be.

A glimmering light in the distance showed the most promise for answers.

* * *

 **BACK AT SKYHOLD**

Fenris couldn't believe this. He had travelled all the way to the blighted desert, only to be sent back to Skyhold. He had protested, naturally, to accompany Hawke and the rest of the Inquisition to the mighty battle that was to take place at Adamant Fortress. But his pleas fell on deaf ears, his current condition too troublesome to ignore. He could not go with his love and fight by her side, not when he could still barely lift his sword.

So it was with a final farewell and a journey far too long for his brooding mind that he found himself back within the very castle he felt that he had just left.

He was restless. In his waking hours (which, in reality, were _all_ of his hours...he did little in the way of sleeping lately, his nights plagued by nightmares he could never quite remember) pacing had become such a normal occurrence that there formed an unmistakable rut in the floors of Hawke's chambers. Still not strong enough to train with his sword, that left his go-to form of therapy not possible. In a last ditch effort to distract himself, he set out to writing to his contacts in Kirkwall.

He had set up a contingent, with the help of Aveline, to look after the Fereldan refugees flocking to Kirkwall. With a pang of anguish, he knew just how easily these poor souls could go from homeless to Tevinter slaves in a matter of days. Knowing he would have to leave with Hawke after the Chantry incident, and her involvement, he made the preparations hastily and in secret with one of the few members of their odd company that he trusted. With Aveline's oversight, and his knowledge of slavers, they had thwarted at least 18 separate attempts of capturing refugees. Varric caught wind of this, naturally, and sent aid from afar (how he managed to do this while the Seeker's prisoner was still beyond Fenris). Jobs were offered to the refugees, and shelter. Soon the underbelly of Kirkwall was becoming its most flourishing.

But it was a job without a foreseeable end, and so Fenris wrote to his contacts with more earnest. Earnest, though still at an achingly slow pace. Hawke did teach him to read, but he still painfully lacked the skills of writing that so many here took for granted. He looked over his progress, and sighed. Wasn't there someone better suited to this?

* * *

"I did not mean offense, I was simply surprised. I had not heard of the refugee situation in Kirkwall for sometime," the Ambassador's face still bore the remnants of her shock by being asked to write a letter to Kirkwall for Fenris' behalf. A few years ago, his pride would have made this feat impossible, but alas, he was desperate. Though he still threatened to take the letter back and forget about it when Josephine balked at his request.

"That is because we wish it to be so. It would make for a poor secret operation if everyone knew of it," the elf crossed his arms and stood back.

"Of course. I apologize for my earlier reaction, it was unthoughtful of me. Now, would you prefer I simply scribe the message for you, or would you like me to draft it myself?"

Fenris was not expecting this question. Nor did he have any clue what she had meant. Refusing to look any more foolish than he already did, he simply went with the latter option, thinking it more closely resembled his request.

"Very well. I shall have this drafted within a few days time. I apologize: with the current battle going on, my attention is rather scattered at the moment,"

Fenris nodded his thanks and turned to leave the room in angrier strides than he had meant.

Not only did he squander his last opportunity for distraction, he was freshly reminded of the very thing that he needed to be distracted from. As he swung open the door with force, he nearly ran face first into a hooded human. Why was he always running into people? Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that his head was always down.

"Leliana, what is it?" Josephine stood from behind her desk, the look on the spymaster's face obviously giving her concern.

"My agents have just reported in," Leliana spat her words between heavy, panting breaths. She obviously ran here from her rookery. "Corypheus...his forces managed to infiltrate into Anora's guard just as ours got there…"her breaths were more labored now. Fenris looked from one woman to the other, worry creasing their brows, but leaving him still utterly confused to what was going on. He had not been in Fereldan long enough to know, or even care, who the important players were to the never ending game of nobility. What did it matter to him, when his concerns lay so far westward? Leliana continued.

"We were too late. The Venatori had already made their way into Redcliffe's ranks by the time we got there. Remnants of those we thought we had taken care of, it seems. By the time our men arrived, they were already close enough to strike,"

"Andraste, no...is she?" Josephine put a delicate hand to her mouth in shock as Leliana inched closer into the room, squaring her shoulders and finally gaining control of her breathing. Her hood did nothing but add to the darkness spread across her pale face as she muttered the words that would mean more to the people of this place that it ever could to Fenris.

"Queen Anora is dead,"


End file.
